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Life Horse Poems | Life Poems About Horse

These Life Horse poems are examples of Life poems about Horse. These are the best examples of Life Horse poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Light Poetry | |

*UNICORN*

.                 Like the UNICORN

At times I fear I am the mysterious of all animals.
Like the Unicorn I my self do not feel real
My inner beauty is the only thing you can steal.
I am my own mythological creature..
A roaming soul with a little will power to heal
 
Ages of my forgotten tear.
Like the Unicorns prophecy so unclear.
I compare your beauty to be the eye of my stare
I propose to you the one who possess a magical power so rare
Absorbing the energy of the sun in to my own spear
Untamed like the wild horse is the way I appear
I have no feelings of real existence, my life to you I compare.
Like you I want my thoughts and memories to disappear

Wasting away absorbing natures life
Drowning in my own and everyone's emotions
Haunted in the woods by a hunters knife.
Thousands of wolves hungry for my motions

Fallen in to thoughts of legends and myth
Pondering in a past life who am I with
I feel a  touch upon my bones.
Am I he the Unicorn 
A horse with one horn
Unlike the Unicorn who fell to exist
My suffering  really does exist.
How I wish every thing about me was fake
Your magical beauty  I can't resist.
To be like you hiding upon the mist

Like the Unicorn who is a horse when it has no horn.
I feel like a nobody when my life slips into the abyss 
A depth of wishing to have never been  born
With the vision of  Heaven’s Realm with a Unicorn twist

Like the Unicorn who only exist in stories, Legends and Myth.
I come out of peoples mouths like a blown kiss.
Shedding many tears feeling all alone.
I want to be like the Unicorn who are bound to roam
Take me away from this wonders of thorns.
Give me a magic Medallion to free my spirit out of these pits
Infatuated with the gorgeous sight upon the Unicorns.
A passion among beauty is where my life fits.

by; P.D.


Details | Narrative | |

An Escape

Have some time to spare in-between a work schedule 
burning me from the inside, out.
Wasted too much time on the computer already,
my body aches from physical inactivity.

Thoughts are racing faster than the speed of light,
the routine of modern life is trying to cage in a free spirit-
a pen for a wild horse with boundless energy,
a strong kick and large teeth.

Haven't come down to this part of the bay for years.
Not sure why anymore?
Not too sure about anything right now.
Believed I was too young to be having these thoughts,
but here they come like a booming drum beat,
keeping time with the pounding of my heart,
but always just a little louder,
to remind me how this warning isn't about to depart.

The putrid stench of kelp and dead crabs
baking in the afternoon sun,
curls up my nostrils, awakening memories of childhood....
....the salt in the sea is the salt in my blood;
we have been one since conception.
The salty, deep green rot, smells like bliss to me,
compared with the scents of over-heated wires,
burnt coffee, and industrial-gray carpeting.

Sit down on a large chunk of driftwood.
The waves aren't crashing in their usual rhythmic crescendo,
but lapping quietly like chortling laughter.
The ocean is chuckling,
laughing at my insignificance
in comparison to its almost limitless horizon 
of cruel, cold water.

A familiar pungent aroma creeps my way-
the high citrus scent of bergamot
mixed with the sweet perfume of skunk.
Two young punks are hauling on some reefer
up the beach from where I am sitting.
Can hear their youthful, carefree chatter.
The last time I smoked weed, seems eons ago now.
The smell invokes the rebel still alive inside,
giving a glimpse of who I had once been-
eyes blazing red,
mind full of humble awe
flying high above the clouds like an eagle.

The shrill cries of gulls fighting over a starfish
breaks my stupor of reminiscence,
reminding me of the hungry ways of nature-
the hungry ways of mankind and money.
Damn! My stupid job awaits!

As I make my way back,
pant legs causing the sand grass 
to sigh in dry moans and whispers,
I make up my mind to visit 
this old stomping ground more often.
In fact, I might start coming out here
on all of my lunch breaks.
Out here, the wild horse has ample room to roam,
even if for only a few moments of escape-
an illusion of escape is far better
than having only stifled dreams
and no hope left at all-

feel much better already.


Details | Cowboy | |

Cowboys in the Badlands

Rather lost, they stare over the divide,
how best to circumnavigate this obstacle?
They can see a path gently sloping down
but it is far off to the north two days ride.

West is back from whence they had come,
east is an impassable cliff of sheer rocks.
They can not see far to the south but maybe,
they talk it over and head into the unknown.

Tumble weed rolling by pushed by the wind
as playfully it blows them into their path.
Miniscule trees dot the flat plateau
and small shrubs popping up here and there.

In a hurry they head on swiftly southwards
and soon start to descend to the valley below.
Billy is pale with anxiety as they push on
his wife Betty is due to give birth.

Sammy casts worried looks at his friend knowing
there is little he can say that will help.
At last they reach the valley and gallop on
Just another five miles will they make it in time?

Their horses now struggling, sweat pouring off them.
Billy's homestead comes into view cattle scattering
as they gallop through the herd and into the yard.
Sammy hangs back as Billy dashes in to Betty.

In full labour she screams "Where have you been?"
"The preacher is here to wed us. Did you get the ring?"
"I have it here" said Billy and without delay they were married.
And within minutes the twins arrived a boy and girl both bawling.

"Geezers you cut that close Billy" said Sammy
as they slumped on the front porch drinking beer.
"We made it in the nick of time" replied Billy
flushed with the joy and fulfilment of life.

written 17/09/2014

contest: Cowboys in the Badlands

sponsor Isaiah


Details | Free verse | |

The Cowboy Life I Love

I squint my eyes from the glaring sun
As I drive cattle across the open range.
I am the youngest hand, so I ride drag
Covered by the dust stirred into the wind.

This is the life I have chosen
To hear the steady creaking of my saddle
The songs of the cowboys as they lead the herd
The lowing cattle as they smell water.

This is the life I live
To see the endless stretches of prairie
The hens and rabbits scuttling away
The ponderous beasts flowing in a living stream.

This is the life I love
Watching the horses graze peacefully at night
The cattle milling about during my night ride
My horse's gentle breathing as I circle them.

May this be my lot while here I remain
May I drink from the freely flowing streams
And breathe the pairie air until I die.

Whether life be short or long
May I ever onward toil, and be content
With the satisfaction of honest work
With the steady pounding of hooves
Biscuits and chili by a wavering fire
And sleeping under the sky on the open range.


Details | Free verse | |

A Horse Life

In a horse life.We can play with a burlap feed
bag, an empty milk jug, or chew on the barn stall
door.Just to kill some time, or to kill some every
day bordom.In a horse life.We get names like
Black Beauty, Flicka, Seabiscuit, or Secretariat.
In a horse life.We do tricks like bowing our heads
down, or placing our shoe upon a pedastool.Picking
up the cowboy hat.While tapping our feet rata-tat-tat.
In a horse life.We like a good block of salt.With lots
of minerals, to lick upon.A wholesome bale of hay.To
start off a brand new day.Or a bucket of grain.To keep
us all healthy, fat, and sane.And a fresh bucket of water, 
to wash it all down.In a horse life.I could be losing a 
horseshoe.While the rider is losing his mind.In a horse
life.We can be a workhorse, a race horse, or a trick pony.
Or maybe a showhorse, or possibly a circus horse.With
out all the phoney baloney.In a horse life.We can run all
day in the open sun, or run the race trak.While the betters
place their wagers.Of course, at the horse racing track
betters window.In a horse life..

A Horse Life Poem by Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 2011,2014..All rights reserved.


Details | Cowboy | |

I'll Go a Ridin' No More

I’ll go a ridin’ no more through blue stem or chaparral,
Just lead my horse to pastures of green.
I’ll watch those rose ruby suns ease on past the ol’ corral—
Think back on the things I’ve done and seen.

Oh, you can’t go on a ridin’ for all your livelong days—
You’ve got to know when to settle down.
You’ll gently pet your ol’ horse as you put her out to graze
And soon life won’t seem so bad in town.

But when blue bonnets and the high plains send their callin’ card,
Your restless feet start to feel that itch.
Then it don’t matter if you’re stove-up or your butt is lard—
That feelin’ calls to the poor and rich.

Just once more I’ll go a ridin’ in the sorrel and sage—
Testin’ my ol’ horse for all it’s worth.
And I know that time cannot stop me, even at my age,
From ridin’ free of the reins of earth. 


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

The Boatman's Song 10/ Many

The boatman’s Song				10/Many

The beauty of that black horse got doubled
With the glittering beauty of the princess on the horse 
Who was elegantly riding that black horse beauty 
While coming towards the boatman with a speed 
He had never seen earlier, when a lady was on a horse 

Her shining long black hairs and few locks on her face, were
Blending with the ravishing beauty of her charming face
Which even the sunbeams were trying to penetrate
To kiss her rosy lips and her glowing lovely face
And with each gush of morning beams
A blush came on her lovely face
On which hundreds and thousands can live and die
And can wait for a whole life to see that face

Her body was glittering like a gem
Because of her teenage and beauty excelling her age
And her youth over sprouting from her bosoms
From her princes sly top and riding trousers
She was dazzling the eyes of the boatman
As there was no one else 
Who could dare to behold her beauty and grandeur
Which was par excellent, any where on earth

She stepped down from the horse back 
With a beautiful sharp jump on the sand
And stood beside the heavenly beautiful horse
She saw the boatman was standing near his boat
And was singing a melody unaware of her gaze

The moment the princess heard that voice
Her heart jumped from her chest
Which had just calmed from thrills
As she had stepped by jumping from the horseback
And her body had calmed only few seconds back

Enchanted and allured by the beauty and heaviness of voice
And totally stunned to see his manliness, so warrior like tight
She forgets her princes sly pride and got lost in adoring
His song and his enchanting voice
Coming from the depths of that singers heart
Suddenly she found herself standing before the boatman
Lost in his heart capturing eyes

There was no one else except these two
And the boatman could not believe
Whether it was a dream or a reality come true
He too was lost in the charms of her eyes
And even forgot to finish the song he was singing
And felt only that someone was penetrating 
In his heart and mind, deep some where very deep


Ravindra				              to continue….
Kanpur   India 12th January 2010  

* Apsara (A Nymph dancer of heaven as per Hindu Mythology
* Indra (The Lord of Heaven as per Hindu mythology
* Urveshi (One of the beloved Apsaras of Indra 
* Tarang (A name of the nymph) Tarang is a Hindi word means waves both 
    Visible or invisible like sound waves
* Saraswati (Goddess of knowledge, music & arts as per Hindu mythology)


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

The Boatman's Song 11/ Many

The Boatman’s Song 			11/Many


Many moments passed, but none spoke a word
Or tried to moved away and remained lost 
In each other’s thoughts
They were lost in each others beauty and charms
Suddenly they found, they were in each other’s arms
None spoke a word and no one tried to depart
In those most cherished moments, love was showering on them
Thousands of flowers were blooming in their minds
And the fragrance of love was spreading in their hearts

Unknowingly both of them, became so dear to one another
As if, the Goddess of love had blessed them for each other
Those were the most lovely, beautiful and memorable moments
For which one waits for ever and for ever
Life is a strange drama they both were thinking 
Where what may happen in the next moments, no one knows ever

In the meanwhile the princess heard a sound coming from a distance
She got alert and made a good distance from the boatman
So that the visitor may not know, for what purposes she was here
But before leaving the boatman, she uttered in her lovely voice, 
Few words, which were glued with love, 
“My dream man I am princess of this kingdom
I will come back to hear you and your songs very soon some day
But at present I have to go immediately from here 
Please don’t ask anything right now from me”

Without a moment’s delay she moved away from there  
To a place, where she had left her horse in waiting for her 
The Princess rode on the horseback and moved here and there
As if, she had reached on that place, without any purpose
And came because her horse ran speedily and brought her there

She pretended to move the horse towards the direction
From where, on an other horse, her father was coming
He called, O Princess you are here, we were searching you
Every where over there, but could not locate you any where
Very innocently she replied,” O father, I was trying to see the river
And the sand dunes spreading all over here there 
And was about to return when you have come over here”

Ravindra					to continue ……..

Kanpur India   14th January 2010



* Apsara (A Nymph dancer of heaven as per Hindu Mythology
* Indra (The Lord of Heaven as per Hindu mythology
* Urveshi (One of the beloved Apsaras of Indra 
* Tarang (A name of the nymph) Tarang is a Hindi word means waves both 
    Visible or invisible like sound waves
* Saraswati (Goddess of knowledge, music & arts as per Hindu mythology)


Details | Rhyme | |

Dark Horse

I love to sit on it,
And ride without a saddle.
It’s stronger than a stallion.
Riding it makes me sweat all over,
Especially down under in my Australia.
I curse often about how my  down under
Feels when I bounce and pounce on the dark horse.
The owner often grunts, curses, calls me names, 
And forces me to ride harder with no remorse.
I love such torture.
I love to feel it slide as I glide sloppily,
On the dark horse that belongs to my daddy.
My boobs bounce like basketballs
While I lie on top sideways or sit up so tall.
Daddy sucks and bites my morsels
While he dunks my rear,
Up and down,
Like an Oreo in milk,
On the horse you know.
I never want to get off,
Because it gets me off.
Having that strength poking me,
Feels heavenly.
I love to feel it slide as I glide sloppily,
On the dark horse that belongs to my daddy.


Details | Ode | |

Free as the wind Ode to native American Indians

Oh how I wish
I could set free
the native American Indian
with pride and dignity
taking them back
across the great open plains
to their sacred home
in the lush green vallies
where buffalo are plentiful
and roam
so the Indians can live in peace
one with nature once more
where the eagles soar
setting them free as the wind
wild untameable as a magnificent stallion
running toward the setting sun.





Peter Dome.copyright.2012.


Details | Ballade | |

My Bucephalus

I did once find this incredible little mare
When I was ready in life and knew
she was ready for me.
Somehow I was drawn to a place in the South,
Not to find a horse, but to get away from "it all"
to enjoy nature in the fall. The scenery of
orange, yellow and all changing leaves.

To this small little horse farm my husband
and I went
To camp, ride horses and enjoy time spent
Then I saw her and knew right then my life had changed
I was sent Mon Ami in my path by some divine fate
so strange.

Ahh, my two year old, I bought her that day
and had to arrange a ride to me states far away
When she finally came, yes- she was mine!
A prayer answered after so much time.
We began to ingest one anothers soul
through life's breath and many a long stroll.

Oh- no life without my Mon Ami-

At three, we began the reign of riding and glee
A decision to make her an endurance horse
was my goal- and to compete for so may miles
certainly did make her "smile"!
Though diversity is the key, we focus on
obliterating opponents at super long
distance... winning always in the top three

Little bay mare, half Arabian and half Morgan
Has shown me she has more heart than any horse
I have ever rode, owned, or with since parted.
A special bond occurs between woman and horse
when they spend thousands of hours in the saddle
riding the course.
Superb at anything she has the will-
but even if she were crippled, forever 
we'll be together still.

Oh my Mon Ami, you are my desire, my energy
to see you everyday, running about at play
there is no sight more beautiful on this planet
to me
Than my beloved little mare, Mon Ami.

2nd place in  "A Horse is A Horse Of Course..." contest by Tirzah.

A. Green



Details | Free verse | |

Green Horse Trough

Hot sun on my back, leaning over the horse trough,
scrubbing the green slim off the sides.
The edge burns my hands and arms as I look for a hold,
Finally cooling the rim with water from the pump.

The bouquet from the trough instantly painted a familiar picture
Of hot, still summer lakes,
Sitting under ancient willows,
Fishing for what ever small life would sacrifice itself to a young fisherman.

Water bugs scoot around the tall grasses ringed with green algae.
Teased by a breeze, willow fingers wrap around a daydream.
One of conquering its mighty branches, with tree houses and rope swings,
While crawdads keep stealing the bait.

The water is clean and clear and cool again.
With memories of her own, my horse pays homage to my work
By burying her face in the trough up to her eyes,
And blowing bubbles out of her nose.


(Some warm nostalgia for a cold winter day.)


Details | Sestina | |

Death Undignified

The summer sun was high. The heat was oppressive.
A whalebone corset dug into my body's tender parts.
Peering from the shop, my hand touches the pane
of dearly brought glass it vibrates with the hoof-beat of riders.
The weak, blue-sky pales, clouding over with the dust. 
Children playing hoop, let it drop with an unheard clatter.

Inside Fort Laramie’s provisioner, Mrs. Dreary's dropped-plate clatters.
Outside, a thunder of hoofs race pell-mell through heat, oppressive.
“Indians!” Children run through the street's miasma of dust.
Folks in wagons and on horseback flee for other parts.
“Sioux,” I nod. Gunshots ring through the air savaging the riders.
The shopkeeper’s wife babe in arms runs up the stairs, baby screams in pain.

Arrow flights buzz by shattering the shop's window panes.
The Indians leap from horse back to tile roof raising a clatter.
Mr. Dreary reaches for his Sharp shooter and aims at the riders.
A cat’s eye marble falls from the toy display, a mundane oppression.
Dreary slams shut the door, shards of glass scatter, bullet parted.
“Mame, git away from that window! Gener’l Connor’ll kill me if y’ur dusted.”

My eyes, now black and hollow as a barn owl's, tear, full of dust.
“Damn heathens,” Mr. Dreary cusses as bullets fly through broken panes.
He pulls me behind him and opens the useless glass door. “Thop” an arrow parts
his scalp. He falls back, landing beside me,his spurs clattering.
The baby screams again. I turn to see Mrs. Dreary's oppressive
grip on the child. “He’s dead.” She says grabs the Sharp and kills the next rider.

The soldiers finally arrive and chase the mongrel band of riders.
Mrs. Dreary, babe in one arm, Sharp in the other, kicks the marble in the dust.
She walks through the door, out of one carnage into another type of oppression,
the soldiers are executing the Sioux braves. Children watch in pain.
Across the street a lone warrior perches. A roof tile clatters
to the dirt. His arrow flies and a soul is parted.

Falling with blind numbness, forward, down, parting
the water in the horse trough left for the riders.
My brass buttons and flint arrowhead scrape the tub clattering,
no one in the street notices my departing in the day's dust.
My open mouth fills with bile and the rancid taste of pain.
“How improper,” was my last lucid thought, truly oppressive.

A clatter of hoofs rocks my parting.
The oppression, of man against man leaves, with the riders.
Only dust and the pain of the living remain.



Details | Clerihew | |

NOAHS ARK

written 9th June 2013


As all the paired animals, were boarded onto the Ark
 Noah, with his final list, ticked them off as a simple task

No one saw, the two flies go pass
 sneaking aboard under a golden mane, on a horse with class

While the flies were free to roam
 eventually starting their journey on home

When they finally, got to the top of the Ark
 looking for there home, but nothing could be seen in the dark

Since that day, that they were stowaways
 arrogantly, believing humans stole them that day 

And have vowed, since that day as "we are to blame
 humans would have to pay, terrorizing us "even still today

The secret I've heard is they were never even invited onto the ark
 all who were on the list, voted if the flies be added to the task

Not to Noah's surprise, they were a pest and for the "entire time
  not "one vote did they receive, no, not from one single mind

They would never again return back to their homeland
  everyone disappointed, think "wouldn't our summer's be grand



Details | Free verse | |

Rain, The Story 3 of 3

Entry submitted in honor of - Constance ~ A Rambling Poet ~

Rain, The Story  3/3

Her horse Past, wished that she should be with her new love,
So that, Rain may find a new loving companion,
To complete her future journey with a new experience,
In the world of love, happiness, joys and even pains too, but  
Rain should try not to live any more,
In the world of fake happiness and alluring illusions,
Created by her horses Future and Past. 

Her horse Past was happy to see, in the eyes of his friend Rain, 
The seeds of a self made future and hopes to find a new life of love.

Rain looked in the eyes of her other horse Future and
Found the same message, as she had seen on the face of Past,
She knew that if she would look into the eyes of Future,
Horse Future would show, the glimpse of her new love to Rain, with whom
Rain may go ahead further in her life, but,
She made up her mind not to look into,
The enchanting eyes of her horses Past and Future,
Until she can live on herself, for building her new fate for her and a new future.

She was more confident now and looked towards the rising Sun,
As the Sun was inviting her to keep walking,
With confidence and smile to face and make her new destiny.

Rain kissed her best friends Past and Future and told them that,
She would not be asking them to show,  her past or future again,
As she was now full of confidence, to face any situation,
For building her own fortune and future,
However, she would like them to be with her, as her best friends forever.

The charming and lovely Rain,  
Now blessed with a new life of confidence,
Moved ahead with her two beautiful horses,
To face the life,  in its true colors on her own,
Without fearing the risks of the future and 
Caring for the dread of past.

Thus started the new journey of fairy like beautiful Rain, 
In search of her love and adventures…

Ravindra
Kanpur India 28th Dec. 2010 

Contest entry:         For this contest only
Contest Name:       Rain, The Story
Sponsored by:        Constance ~ A Rambling Poet ~
Written by:	       Ravindra K Kapoor


Details | Free verse | |

Train Journey

I sit here by the window
and watch quietly
as the train moves along
Outside
I see land - 
wild beautiful land
still untouched by man
and it creates within me
a feeling that is wild and boundless

The beautiful trees
in many places
so closely clustered together
though of mixed species
seem to cry out 
a message of love and unity
to all mankind
I see flowers - 
plain simple flowers
there is a beauty in them - 
the beauty of simplicity

There are children on the hillsides -
the country folk
people call them
My heart sings as I watch them
They know us not on the train
but yet they wave at us
and we wave back at them
because their action is filled 
with some sentiment 
that is pleasing to us

Shimmering little pools of water
pulsating with life
appear and then vanish
out of sight
but the picture of life
within them
remains with me

The cows and the horses 
graze in the pastures
some sit
others browse slowly along
O how I envy their leisurely
pace of life!


Details | Limerick | |

A Distempered Horse

There once was a skinny horse name George.
Poor ole soul lived alone in a gorge.
Three fit sheep came his way.
They were traded that day.
Matted, bony, his belly engorged.  

Onward He forged, living on the brink.
I’ll save him, one young maiden did think.
Head hung; life was his game.
George, his infamous name.
She prayed; from his needs, she did not shrink.

George would not drink; lips were cracked and dry.
She asked God, “Please don’t let him die.”
Water was his kismet.
Sweet feed filled hope’s bucket.
She cut out mats; whisked away each fly.

Six months later, George was still alive.
Lips were moist; he ate; began to thrive.
With some flesh on his bones,
And relieved of his groans,
The day of her moving would arrive.

The time came when George had to be sold.
Half Arabian, not very old
Registration papers.
The old trader’s capers,
You promised them, the young girl cajoled.

How could he live; does he have luster?
Papers lost; no death by distemper.
Confessions on that day,
The girl went away.
Compassion to the horse did whisper.

New owners bought him, his health still poor.
His price and potential was the big lure.
They quickly changed his name.
Greener pastures, the game.
Star’s beauty became his life’s encore.

© June 7, 2011
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen

Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: A Horse Story 	 
Sponsored by: Carol Brown

(Based on a true story)


Details | Couplet | |

THIS IS HOW LIFE FEELS WHEN YOU GET TO BE MY AGE

THIS IS HOW LIFE FEELS WHEN YOU GET TO BE MY AGE

I have a general philosophical  precept
Life is in general a bowl of cherries except 
When someone stabs me in the back who didn’t oughta
From a completely unexpected quarter
I mean it’s ok if some dude whom I don’t like or trust
Has a go at me and feels he must
But if my wife tells me I continually bug her with my fidgets 
And then she  runs off with a team of one-legged circus midgets
Or my kids sell their hand-bound volumes of my poems
To buy a ton of horse manure to mix with the garden loams
And even the cat turns down my offer of warm milk
To go next door and sleep on sheets of silk
Or if a poetry contest excludes me simply because my name 
Is unacceptable, maybe because I am black, or lacking in fame, 
Or because I’m Methodist, and  gay, and Republican, and from  East Lansing,
Then I say to myself, well  here’s the thing:
If, along with my poem entry, I’ve  slipped in fifty bucks,
Well then  how can I be excluded?  I mean shucks  -
Rules is rules but when I’ve already paid to be in the winners’ list
I feel I have the right,  and  I just gotta insist,  
Cos midgets and fidgets don’t amount to squat
And sheets of silk or loads of horse manure is a lot
But  my name’s my pride and joy and I am proud to add it
(But I fear to do it again in this contest or I’ve had it),
So in this contest I will remain anonymous
Though I guess the details writ here are just about synonymous 
With a name  I do not dare speak  - at risk of exclusion
But I’m pretty sure this extra fifty bucks will lessen the confusion.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Written  - with great affection -  for
Nancy Jones's   Contest 	"This is how life feels when you get to be my age..."


Details | Terza Rima | |

Fogged Lights

I see the scene before me as it rains The roads are slick with water on the ground The reflection of the lights seems inane It is powerful to see this around The lights down below the heavenly sky Everybody that walks by all look down The scene that I see involves a buggy Looking ahead, the horse draws it along A reflection of these objects is high I wish to be in the rain, I belong I’m insane not to be out there running Playing in the dim lights, singing a song Even if I’m wet, there’s no regretting I would pet that horse on the street tonight I’m glad it’s night, for the sun is setting I see horse and buggy go in the night Beyond the sight of the fogged lights outside The street is all lit by the lovely lights Now the reflection is just slightly wide The water blends in nicely on the side
Russell Sivey


Details | Rhyme | |

For I Know

Let’s go back some years into the past
To see how the die would have been cast
If when I met you in those days long ago
Would you have changed me and would our love grow

Imagine a knight on a horse with a lance
He tips it to you with a smile and glance
He looks upon you with your beautiful face
Gets down from his horse drops his shield and his mace
For I know this is love 

On a ship there’s a pirate he’s brave and he’s bold
He plunders the galleons on the high seas for gold
The skull and crossbones flies high on the mast
One look at you and down it is cast
For I know this is love

A cowboy in dodge a gunslinger of note
To shiny six guns I happen to tote
I want only to be your enigmatic Shane
One look at your body no more bodies slain
For I know this is love

There is a centurion out killing for Rome
His life my life on long battle a long way from home
I see a goddess with eyes so bright
Make my allegiance switch to just hold you tight
For I know this is love

So you see it matters not what I would be
You would always be there that I can see
For even if time and space were to split
We would still find each other and somewhere to sit
For we would know as now this is love


Details | I do not know? | |

XXX Movies (in IV scenes)

i closed my eyes
and heres what i saw:

a horse being burned
by other horses
they all had the same owner
they all lived in the same place
but the burning horse was different
or as the others called him:
odd and EVIL

i opened my eyes
as i sat in the pew next to you

i covered my ears
and heres what i heard:

seven voices singing in unison
six of them were VILE
they cursed
and swore their blasphemous lips until they bled
and the last one
was so beautiful
it killed me

i started to listen
and realized today was your weekly Christian day

i closed my mouth
and heres what i tasted:

this sweet poison
intoxicating me
it seemed so perfect
(it wore a VEIL)
so i married it and consumed it
i felt fine at first
but the poison did me in
it burned and tore my flesh slowly
all because i chose the wrong goblet

i vomited
and never went to you again

i closed my heart to you
and this is how i died:

i emptied my soul
into your bloody rivers
i demolished myself
and made me you
i shredded my heart
so you could repair it
i died in their church
so you could show them
that you never told us to die
but:
''because of my son, you LIVE"

and there my story ends
and you have no part in it
evil, vile, veil, and live
are all spelled the same
(when coming from your pen)

but you are not the author
nor editor of my life
you are but a simple match
striking yourself upon me
with the hope to consume me in YOUR flame
just so you can feel better about yourself
feel better about you
feel better
please...


Details | Free verse | |

Forever Rider

Bleached bones of a fallen beast, Casting a shadow that points To the east, A cowboy rides out With a noose round his neck, Travelling north on a Perilous trek. The noose is a reminder That his life is not his, Not that he needs it To tell him the truth, He's atoning for sins Committed by him And the noose is just there For some proof. His horse pointing northwards, His spurs jab its flanks, It jumps on a journey It knows not to where, He has been advised If he gets where he must That he must handle all things With great care. Long weeks follow days, He ne'er stops for food, He feels neither hunger, Nor thirst or fatigue, His Horse is the same, Feeling neither hunger or pain, Though they travel on league After league. He stops on the brow Of a mountainous peak, To gain the bearings He felt he had lost. His eyes sweep the plains He travels in vain, Without ever revealing The cost. His life had been shortened For the most part by death, He had suffered For what he had done, His actions alone Had been the sole cause Of the loss of his wife And his son. And so for his torment He had been given a task, That he knew he must Always repeat, There was no respite And no task to be done And his journey would be Never complete. And so he rides on O'er the endless red plain, Destined as ever to Be all alone, And maybe one day His skull will be seen By another as abandoned Bleached bone....


Details | Free verse | |

Spirit of Horse and Man

The rider accepts the horse and the horse accepts the man.
No man rides a horse… It’s a dance in poise and symmetry as one.
Thump, Thump…Thump, Thump
The power is felt in the movement as the horse stretches out its gate.
The muscles move beneath the man with power waiting to escape.
Thump, Thump…Thump, Thump
The fluidity of the gate is matched by the fluidity of the man.
The nostrils flair in both… The dance has just begun…
Thump, Thump…Thump, Thump
If they do not work together… They will not work at all.
The horses’ mane like the mans’ hair, is held tight in the flowing wind.
Thump, Thump…Thump, Thump
With each step they take… A balance must be struck.
For every step they take… Their intent must be as one.
Thump, Thump…Thump, Thump
The spirit of the horse must merge with the spirit of the man.
Together they merge in a symbiotic relationship as old as horse and man.
Thump, Thump…Thump, Thump
Feel the movement… Feel the power… Feel each muscle as it moves.
Feel each breeze unfold… Feel their hearts and souls as they meld as one.
Thump, Thump…Thump, Thump
Point to counter point… The man doesn’t own the horse or the horse the man.
What looks so easy is not a simple thing as they travel forth as one.
Thump, Thump…Thump, Thump
The connection is tightly woven. This spirit of Horse and man.
Thump, Thump…Thump, Thump
And with each ride together they will meld again as one…
Thump, Thump…Thump, Thump


Details | Rhyme | |

Rdie On And Show Me The Way

I stood in front of the finest white horse
It looked at me all energetic to carry forth
Suddenly, a new spark of life took its course
As one, we rode to a place that is lovingly worth.

Your eyes are so open and ready to go onward
See on, and ride with me, you know where to go
The wind is blowing your mane forward
Everything is alright now and in the right row.

As the horse road on, I sang a song of joy and desire
I will go with pride and never have evil prevail
I want to know where the answers of love will fire
Show me the road and where replies won’t fail.

The horse carried me back in time that was only free
Life was filled with happy smiles and no sorrow
One looked in time and saw only moments at ease
Like a bird that wanted to be solemn and had no woe.

I see loving visions in my eyes as I ride on in time
My wishes are focused open now for only you
I would be so lost and alone if I had no pure sign
And I know my heart can show me the right view.

Now that I have found my way, I will stay in this zone
I can never go alone no matter how much I wish to
When I move forward I will no longer be on my own
See me, I travel on and I am no longer without you.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

CharlaXTitles11

 
Inches make feet without inches there is no foot without beginnings there is no work without measure there is no dearth without a ruler there is no worth there must be rules and there are rules but eye will let them all apply to them my enemies at work and never eye. The horse runs well it has a heart so then they fill syringes from the start to inject the muscles of the neck to make the beast faster than the wind oh heck the animal is dead it never hit the ground but flew too fast and lost the race and life. Desert life is winterless but not without some weather life the sun is always shading and the water is found in sub altern placing near the animals for killing under the ledge of apprehension near the fire of desperation comes the frog and toad and watercrest nut sandwiches. Eye had been to the desert on a horse with no namme it felt good to be out of the rain. Voices come out at me from the air into mye membrain eye call it Disraeli musick it is usually someone in the area with a boom box or even cars with the windows rolled down can be the culprits they hound me when eye am hicking place to place. There is other answers to the crazxy place eye hear noises mad mostly by people in the other cubicles the walls are just invisible the talking is allowed. The thief cannot sneak in sneakers they squeak like he is sweating in his shoe laces. This brings me to mye priority eye. The reason that no one wants to be a Detective is the movies the guy may have had DAMES by the score but he had fights and was so sore the men were ruthless and left him spinning on the side of every road. The streets of New Nuevo York has gum shoe on them. The American idea of Indians and wampum has brought us to the test of food in rest or rants of foreign style they smile and bring the menu back to make certain that the orders write the man has pointed several times at five bills a whack. One from Column A and 2 from Column B brings us to a bill of $23. Well eye wanted some meat too but you are so expansive. Rice and curry hot mustard radishes. Try finding food in the summer time how careful now that eye a homeless one should be then tossing caution to the winding blowing wind when it seems only wrapped so tightly to keep flies at night away. To feed myself is easy to offer some to others almost impossible a few times eye have asked to share they slide that nostril in the air and leave the food to the one that found it in the lair of tossed and discarded things the general city the loose leaf cabbage so nicely adds a bite to the membrain of mye priority eye. 


Details | Quatrain | |

Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse

War is just a means tae a’ end
Deaythe’s the price o’ life.
Famine comes upon black horse 
fillin the gullet o’ Deaythe’s strife.

War is just a means tae a’ end
Deaythe’s the price o’ life
Power swings War’s blood red swuird
the weak an’ the old suffice.

War is just a means tae a’ end
Deaythe’s the price o’ life.
Conquest raises mighty bow
crownin’ Kings with rare delight.

War is just a means tae a’ end
Deaythe’s just the price o’ life
on pale horse the banshee rides
binna matter what your fief.

In deayth we fertilize the field
Life is aw an’ Deaythe's real.

*In the style of Robert Burns


Details | Verse | |

VISION QUEST

VISION  QUEST

The Sioux chief Brown Eagle taught me self-respect 
And I saw my life as an Englishman must have greater purpose,
And that these "savages" were actually my saviors.
The spirit of his tribe drew me; to resist was useless. 
 
The closest spirit was Brown Eagle’s sister :   
But Bright Water could  marry only a warrior-chief :
To prove worthy to marry into the tribe, and  to lead it,
I had  to endure long  tests and trials of grief.  

I studied the ways of Brown Eagle, 
Whose many scars  were openly displayed,
Showing  his warrior-status,  as well as reminding all  
Of the torture ritual in the tribe and the respect to be paid.

The tribe medicine-man explained what should happen:
I had to undergo a series of ritual  tortures and tribulation, 
Including an  O-Kee-Pa  style chest-suspension ceremony,
And its most grueling part,  the Sun Vow Initiation. 

I was  hauled up to  the roof of a huge tepee
By buffalo-bone hooks through my pectoral muscles, flowing  red:
Excruciating exquisite pain - as my former  life was torn out of my chest:
My spirit  ascended  to the  roof and I saw my own body dead.

In a sincere desire to become one with the tribe my spirit left 
The tepee on a shamanic journey into another order of realization, 
A landscape of magic and mystery  -  and during this ordeal 
Manitou came to me in the form of the White Buffalo - a sacred vision:   
 
Hooves pounding, eyes flaring, He emerged from a vast prairie fire.
And of leadership,  duty and responsibility I heard Him speak:
And His huge presence ran with my horse and guided me over the endless 
Short-grass  plains to Bright Water’s flowing creek.

Attention and energy of my small self was removed from its centre; 
The world around  expanded correspondingly, enhancing 
A changing, fluid, magical, and mysterious realm of the unknown.
Deep-etched imagery, a dream of death-and-life entrancing.

My emotional state transcended any normal boundaries 
In sacred time and space  -  because of the ritual, the ceremony,
The  privation, the torture, the longing for communion.
I drank from the flowing creek and returned to the tepee.

Helpless,  I was cut down from the tepee roof, rejoined
To  the world of flesh and bone; but  my fire-baptised  
Spirit had new authentic power, and Brown Eagle took my arm:
What is your name, brother?  I proudly took the name  - Buffalo Eyes.

From the culture of the High Plains Sioux in the USA
Inspired by the movie A MAN CALLED HORSE (1970) starring Richard Harris.


Details | Rhyme | |

The Plains are Painted in Red

His massive head was adorned with a wooly crown,
and his robes decorated with ermine of brown
What a majestic monarch roaming with regal grace.
He was mighty, but bearing a pusillanimous face.
The king ruled his domain and his subjects in harmony,
and spent his life on the plains with complacency

The presence of parallel steel rails soon would tell
the arrival of a smoking iron horse from hell 
This brought waves of lead with tactless trajectories
from those who were carriers of a deadly disease
Many subjects soon would fall victim to the rain
which emanated from the guns on the moving train.
After the end of the deadly lead storm that day,
that careless iron horse then just galloped away.

Necrophagous vultures hovering not too high
in circular anticipation in the sky,
knew that the victims were inhaling their last breath.
They would soon be consumed by inevitable death
Words of another poet I would then recall:
“And death and darkness held dominion over all”

Diminished numbers of subjects would indicate
that this was the time for the king to abdicate.

Many moons had to pass through numerous night skies
before enough blind people would open their eyes.
Life and preservation is now what we embrace.
Finally, the king has gratefully regained his place.

Long live the king!


Details | Cowboy | |

Border's End

I did not drive the roan that day,
Just saddled up my old dark bay,
To check out fences far afield
And breathe in life with all its yield.

Near border’s end I came upon
A fresh, dead cow down by the pond.
I wondered why it had died here
With water and spring grass so near.

I spurred my horse and reined away
But something said that I should stay—
I creaked down from my saddle’s reach
And saw the cow had died in breech.

I knew they should be buried soon,
By light of day or dark of moon. 
I left them there, that calf and cow
And rode back home in thought somehow.

I had forgot that scene of death
Till summer quickly took my breath
And once again I passed that shell
Of twisted skin and faded smell.

The worms had done their work it seems 
On frenzied flesh and faltered dreams.
Yet, still I stared like at a grave—
Thought how we took but seldom gave.

Then autumn came and tinted trees
With colors each low creature sees.
So on my horse I sought them out,
To answer what this life’s about.  

A mute Madonna—sticks of bone,
Still nestled there so all alone.
We live and die, the season’s dawn,
We’re all breech born before we’re gone.

In winter’s wind the world turns cold
As cow and calf and man grow old.
Yet, now there’s no sinew or hide 
To hint of life or what’s inside.

Death’s passion passed and so did I
To pay respects and say goodbye.
For man and beast all die as kin—
I will not ride this trail again.

 




Details | I do not know? | |

Glory

This is the story of a beautiful horse named Glory Freckled and spotted She stood but a twig Lost in a forest Of abandonment Tires and barbwire Surround her by day And at night she suffers The coyotes cries, not far away Left with no food Or water to drink She stands by a tree And hopes for relief Halter grown in And hooves overgrown Not a grain in that belly And left all alone Withering quick She stands by her tree And hopes a kind soul Will help her to see There is life still No matter how grim Things seem from beneath This horrid, old tree This halfhearted twig Awaits her relief As the days pass her by And she writhes with grief Her name is Glory All freckled with spots Like a giant Dalmatian Trapped in this spot At the end of her lead She was finally freed Not a day too soon She'll now find relief Halfhearted no longer And happy at last Whom once was a twig Knows Glory at last Halfhearted no longer And free from that mess Glory has found relief At Horse Creek Ranch* *Horse Creek Ranch is, to the best of my knowledge, a fictional name.


Details | I do not know? | |

JESSICA REKOS

** This poem is in memory of Jessica Rekos, one of the children who died in the Sandy Hook shooting. Jessica was six year old and when she turned ten she was supposed to get her very own horse but that dream ended.



Jessica rides on her horse, Rocky, as they gallop to the Lord's house.

She loved horses and will now have her very own horse to gallop and play on in Heaven.



Jessica will watch over her brother and best friend, Travis, as he goes through the journey of life.

Being his rock.

By making sure he does not fall of the horse completely.


Details | Haiku | |

Dillon

the horse hunkering 
rain drenched muddy
up on the hill ears down.



Theme: HORSE 
Bob Renard
Constance’s Contest entitled:
Horses or Snowflakes or Horses and Snowflakes Poetry Contest


Details | Quatrain | |

Fowr Horsemen of the Apocalypse

War is just a means tae a’ end
Deaythe’s the price of life.
Famine’s black horse 
fills the gullet of Deaythe’s strife.

War is just a means tae a’ end
Deaythe’s the price of life
Power swings Wars red sword
the weak an’ young suffice.

War is just a means tae a’ end
Deaythe’s the price of life.
Conquest raises its mighty bow
crowning Kings with delight.

War is just a means tae a’ end
Deaythe’s is just the price of life
on pale horse the banshee rides
no matter the what your fief.

We are the fertilzer of the field
for life is all and deayth is real.


Details | Light Poetry | |

Non-sense

The first time that I was serious
“I would be a good boy now”
My mom said “Non-sense! You never can
Go out and get yourself a sun-tan”

I left that idea for ever
My mom still repents for being so clever!!

And then I was genuine when I said
“From tomorrow I will start studying”
 My esteemed teacher said “Non-sense!
Oh you, I know you are joking”

I gave up studying all together
My teacher still wonders why I took her so seriously rather!!

I was adamant when I followed my aim
“I just want to become that”
My father got in between “Non-sense!
For you its better never than late”

So I gave up doing anything at all
He is still sorry for being the reason of my fall!!

I was darn sure when I said
“That’s the horse that will win the race”
My wealthy uncle quipped “Non-sense!
Such waste decisions, tragedy you will face”

Unfortunately that horse went for the kill
And, I of course, was thrown out of his will!!

I was confident when I said
“It’s you whom I would love to marry, cool”
But my sweetheart said “Non-sense!
I just wanted you to pay the bill, you fool”

Sadly enough, her husband died in a year
She still repents – I would have lived longer without fear!!

I knew it when I declared
“It’s going to be a daughter”
But my mother-in-law shouted “Non-sense!
It’s a son who will bring laughter”

But when Angela was born to see
She came with a foot-ball “She would have enjoyed being a male like me!!”

On Angela’s marriage I said
“It’s definitely not a good match”
Angela scolded me “Non-sense dad!
He is a pass-out from a Harvard batch”

He spent all his life in his office
My dear girl wondered if life can get that rubbish!!

On the day the doctors declared me sick
“I will no longer live, Kristy, that’s fate”
All my friends gasped “Non-sense!
For God’s sake, don’t tell that”

The day I died, slow and brave
No one followed my wife to the grave!!

Fantastically as I climbed the slopes of heaven
“Oh! What a busy life was it!!”
God cheerfully said “Non-sense!
You were a moron without wit”

But when I started doing things in heaven
Even He admitted “If this is how you work in mirth,
Thank God!! (oops) you did nothing on earth!!”


Details | Free verse | |

The Stallion

A horse walked in the ring, 
Alone but bold,
A man hollered to move him around,
His tail held high and his neck bowed,
He snorted and bucked in defiance.
The epitome of a spirited beast, 
He looked every bit a stallion.
No one bid,
But save on gal,
A tiny thing who most thought a fool,
At least on that day.
But as time went on, 
That horses spirit never caved.
But the girl was patient, 
And kind,
After a long time that horses will bent,
He was defiant and spirited still,
No mistaking the Stallion he was,
But save for one small girl, 
to whom he gave his heart to.
And day after day,
He willingly rode with her,
Over mountain and field, 
After cow and game.
He loved her you see-and she loved him.
And after a time, 
she went back to that auction ring, 
And with her was that Wild beast
Wild still or so it seemed, 
As he snorted and bucked freely.
But no worries-he wasn't for sale.
He was to be a father this year,
He'd earned the right,
And when she stepped in that ring, 
No defiance was seen.
As he bowed his head and silently gave to her,
Their will seemed unified.
She flowed upon his back, 
And he stopped spun and slid
Like an invisible hand guided him,
No movement of the crowd was seen.
It was true beauty in motion,
A Girl and her horse- One
Suddenly they all wished they'd seen what she'd seen,
Not a horse to be broken,
But a spirit to be fixed.
A partner she saw,
Not something to be controlled.
All crave this with their horses,
Dogs and loved ones too,
But rarely can it be found,
Too busy trying to break them, 
We fail to join them.


Details | I do not know? | |

By A Lone Cowboys Hand

Upon the page forever bound, the wagering of life will be found,
Where those words are gathered in paper and ink and bring a cowboys life to the brink
Of wit and charm with a cowboys creed, what’s on his back is all he’ll need,
For those turns in life that unfold, like a horse that he couldn’t hold.
His wild eyes would test his fate, with quick sharp hooves his teeth bared with hate.
Or a more subtle gander into life so told where he could walk on land, not branded or sold.

Find a friend not easily made, standing alone when he has strayed 
To a place where he shouldn’t be,
And with in his eyes all he’ll see 
Of life and early death,
Beside a friend until his final breath.

The pages are bursting with emotion and wit, the knowledge of where he got most of it.
Feeling the breath of a horse rode down. Hearing the spurs as they strike the ground.
Smelling the leather and sweat of a hard days ride.
Knowing they have done more than just tried.

Horns that gore a pony that he was on, artistically maneuvered in words and drawn,
To make you feel the at painful fall,
The reality of a mad cows bawl
All etched into words and forever bound to a book of silence,
If not read now sound will fill the mind and souls with imaginations of prairies and knolls, 
And mountains where cattle hide with no brand burnt upon their hide

You are drawn into a life where men were free, and shaped by the land like they ought to be.
 Lives that were whittled and chiseled into long hard days,
The force of mother nature and the changing of ways 
Bring alive the west, we now read and hear. The wisdom behind the handmade gear.

Cowboys North and South, bring knowledge and hence are a powerful part of evidence, that the Grit of Smokey, Flint and Sand where brought to life by a Lone Cowboys hand.
From cover to cover you are woven into the past and live with the cowboys the author has cast,
Turning each page so you could read on 
Knowing the emotions and feelings along 
With the horses and cowboys names.
Brought to life by one man,
Will James.


Details | Free verse | |

Pegasus, The Legend

Sprouting full-formed 
From the crimson life blood 
Of a snake eyed medusa, 
That succulent seducer, 
The white horse shook his 
Glittering diamond wings and 
Wild mane that sung 
Of untamed adventures and 
Lost prophecies

Reigning the skies with 
Giddy joy and bliss, 
He came to land, 
Enticed by a golden bridle 
Wielded by a princely hero
Bellerophon

Singing his praise and 
Carrying him through the 
Winding canyons and 
Glacial seas 
That were the home of 
The fire-breathing chimera, 
The epitome of chaos rising

Carrying his rider to a 
Flawless victory and above 
And beyond to a 
High flying adventure, 
The hero rode his 
Glittering white horse 
To the high mountain, 
A godly matter at hand

The skies opened and Zeus 
Hurled his thunder, 
Tossing the princely hero 
To the still ground, 
Forcing him to 
Roam the earth, 
A melancholy wanderer, 
While his white steed 
Ascended to the heavens 


Details | Epic | |

About The Year '72 part 2

As the late shadows began to fall
Off to the tanks to check the ice again
Supper was at 6:00 o’clock and if lucky 
He’d have the chance to warm up and rest for a spell.

The time did come which the children didn’t like
They had to move in with the  teacher 
At school for a week.
It took a county road grader to plow out the roads
In order for us to get the children back home.

This was March when the calving had started
Twenty-four hour days were the rule.
I did the night calving shift
To allow Billy sometime to rest.
Only on emergencies did I give him a call
Up in the morning he’d make the rounds
Checking on new calves or problems
If all was well into breakfast he’d come
Then plow us out and me back in.
If a problem would arrived he’d switch 
The cat for his horse and off they’d go
To bring the cow into the shed 
Where he’d  perform the necessary chore
And safely tuck the calf in to his bed
His horse taken care of 
It was off to the cat, plow the hay sled out
Then to the feeding he’d go and the routine
Would then begin in spite of the snow.

Like I said this was 19 and 72
On July the 4th, I don’t know why
But I walked back into the shelterbelt
Behind the house and much to my surprise
There was a snow drift that had not met it’s demise
The years before and the years after
Had their snows, blizzards and winds
But never before and never after 
Did we have another year like 
Nineteen hundred and seventy two.


Details | Cowboy | |

Waddie Peacock's Last New Year

(The real Waddie Peacock, described only as “an old L.S. cowpuncher,” had the 
distinction of being the first person buried in Logan, New Mexico’s first cemetery 
in 1910.) 

It seems a man rides restless when he’s alone on the rim—
No one to rein him in a bit, no one to bury him.

So Waddie Peacock sat astride his horse reassessin’—
Dreamin’ past those frozen plains, tryin’ to count each blessin’.

He’d been an ol’ L.S. cowpuncher since hard scrabble youth,
But with the years and creakin’ bowlegs, he now sought the truth. 

He didn’t go out ridin’ much on that December trail—
He holed-up in an ol’ line shack till wit and nerve did fail.

But here he was on New Year’s Eve watchin’ those lone star skies,
Knowin’ that each man’s life is short, before he ups and dies.

Come fall he’ll head his hoss out to Logan, New Mexico—
Say goodbye to the L.S. boys and then he’ll have to go.

Some say there’s silver down Logan way - he’ll pack up his gun—
A brand new town and way of life – a brand new risin’ sun.

But now ol’ Waddie Peacock waits the start of this New Year.
He pats his faithful horse and knows with life there is no fear.

Somewhere a cowboy clangs a bell and shoots into the air—
The New Year comes like all the rest – ol’ Waddie just sits there.

Somehow he feels this year’s his last, and that he’ll be called home—
And Logan’s where he’ll soon now rest beneath the land and stone.


Details | I do not know? | |

Game of Chess

Along came a black horse
rider non existent
fire in his eyes life no longer
see the devil smile as his horse grew younger
see the devil cry as his horse grew fonder
sat a lonely boy in his path
eyes of water lit to wrath
boy stood up as wings were cast
the dark horse turned grey as light did pass
see the angel smile as the boy grew older
see the angel smile as the boy grew wonder
horse came a halt eyes still a glaze
boy flew above the dark horses maze
fire from his eyes erupted through the air
the boy inhaled as the fire turned to tears
the young boy now a man
the fire inside him as turned his hand
from giving to a fist no longer will stand
as the horse now in air flying with the man
the waltz of life now on demand
the man and horse now riding through land
turn to each others repromand
the boy grew dark and eyes now steam
the horse grew white and wings through the beam
see the devil smile as his horse won the fight
see the angels smile as their boy won the might


Details | Sapphic stanza | |

THE WATCHING

Hidden on the hill
     I stand
    watching

My Beloved--
  grace
   surpassing the gods--
    whistles
as he brushes
  his silvery horse 
       stroke
              after
      stroke
  until the dusky mane
disappears
into the 
twilight

V Anderson-Throop 2014


Details | ABC | |

Keep Me Under Control

I am so wild, I carelessly run around
I am the last horse in a one horse town
I'm as wild as wild can be
I have zero guidance, so I live my life aimlessly
Do what you have to, send me to assist the Border Patrol
I need someone to neuter me and keep me under control
I live life by the seat of my pants
I don't want love or trues romance
I believe that every moment counts
When you fall down, there is still time and room to bounce
If a jet can fly, it can surely land
When wrong is done, justice needs to be a firm hand
One day I may feel peace and love deep in my soul
When I find that one that can keep me under control
If there is a poster child for bad, it has to be me
I do not welcome the Devil, but there will be no begging for mercy
I often wonder what do people think
I really don't care after my third hard drink
You are wasting your time if you want to preach
You are educated, so do your best to teach
I am not worth being loved by you, so do not glow
I want discipline, so do your best to bring me under control
I party and sin and live as I please
I will never be driven to my eyes
I am a rebel and that will never change in my life
Not looking for love, a white picket fence or a loving wife
I can take the streets and deal with them blow by blow
Are you the one to keep me under control
Some people have it, some don't and some never will
I'm tired of hearing about it, I have lived it, now it's overkill
The question is do I want to sell my soul
You can save me if you can keep me under control


Details | Free verse | |

Horse Sensations

To ride Lippizans
My eldest daughter
She of the animalistic tendencies
Took a large warmblood
Out to the back pasture
For needed exercise

The horse was tightly wound
A big buck jumped up
Snorted and bounced a couple of times
Then waited to see what we’d do
I could feel the bolting desire exploding
I dropped the reins
and patted the bulging neck
at my chin with both hands
The horse was so up I could have stroked his nostrils
I was not leaning forward
It was all I could do 
to turn this sudden desire to bolt
into a dance of pride
The buck bounced a couple more times
And I fed the joy of the sight right into his fright
Laughing with the excitement of it all
as the buck left
I rode that horse in a prancing high legged dance of pride
Feeling every nuance of nerve endings
Shouting and singing aloud with the joy of it
To control that much force
To have my legs holding all that shuddering wonder
I never wanted to come down
This was why I ride horses

Dad didn’t write any poetry today
He only listened
And felt how it is to ride a horse joyfully
Some days are treasured pleasures
Poetry’s where we store them


Details | Rhyme | |

Clem

When Clem finally made it into town
Leading his horse and swearing
The townfolk looked at him askance
But, Clem totally wasn't caring

He had walked the last five miles
His horse had thrown a shoe
Walking wasn't his favorite sport
But, there was nothing else to do
 
He was mighty hungry
His throat was desert dry
He planned to get a juicy steak
And great, big, bottle of rye
 
He left his horse with the smithy
Then walked across the street
He decided to quench his thirst
Before he went to eat
 
Trina was dancing in the saloon  that day
A lady so sweet and fair 
With silver buckles on her shoes
And rhinestones  in her hair
 
Clem felt his heart skip a beat
And knew he had fallen in love
He didn't realize he was staring
Til a big man gave him a shove
 
"That's my woman", the big man said
"So, put your eyes back in their socket"
And without the slightest warning
Drew a derringer from his pocket
 
Clem tried to leave without a fight
But the big man stood in his way
Just one shot was all it took
To kill Clem that day
 
The marshal arrested the big man
Clem was buried on Boot Hill
The smithy auctioned off his horse
To pay his funeral bill
 
WhenTrina left town soon after that
She wanted to say goodbye
So she left a rose on poor Clem's grave
And a great, big, bottle of rye


Details | Rhyme | |

Trail's End

I'm on my way to a different day 
A day of long ago. 
Where the buffalo roam 
And the long horns groan 
As down the trail they go. 

There isn't much time for them to graze 
The drovers push them hard 
But you can bet they're up to it 
Cause they're from Texas pard. 

Them old longhorns just duck their heads 
And push the ones in front 
And when they get tired of all that guff 
A fight will then erupt. 

The drovers they then step in 
To try and calm the herd 
If it doesn't work then there's a chance 
A stampede will occur. 

The day is clear, a good day to trail 
But the clouds they do watch 
Cause if a lightening storm comes up 
The first thing to do is get down from your horse. 

Circle the critters, try to keep them calm 
And if that doesn't work, 
All you can do is try and turn the herd 
And hope you get the final word. 

Joe took the lead, rope in hand 
He zeroed in on the leader 
He gave the rope a throw, tied hard and fast 
As he tried to take control. 

It was a chore, pressured from all sides, 
His horse was wearing thin 
Another group passed them by 
Boxing them both in. 

His horse did stumble, down they went 
An angel took his hand. 
Now Joe is riding herd for God 
In the Promised Land. 

Amen

I attended the Chisholm Trail, End of the Trail celebration yesterday in Caldwell, 
Kansas.  My grandfather and his brothers were well known Texas drovers  hitting 
every trail from Texas to the Canadian border.  They settled in the Sandhills of 
Nebraska where they played a large part in the early history of this land.  But this 
was my first experience. It was really exciting even though it was a modern 
setting.  I thank my editor for taking me along with her.


Details | Cowboy | |

Shadow Cowboy

Who was that tall cowboy I saw ridin’ by the door?
He seems just like some shadow that I’ve seen before.
He shimmers in the twilight – he was here and then gone—
Just a shadow cowboy like the horse he rides upon.

It seems we never saw him when things were at their best,
But things just don’t stay that way out here in the West.
Some say he’s a vaquero that died out on this land 
By way of some injustice that no one understands.

When maw came down with fever as hot as burnin’ Hell,
We heard spur chains outside and found water from the well.
And in a fleetin’ glance I saw him when maw died—
But I was just mistaken ‘cause cowboys never cried.

Who was that tall cowboy I saw ridin’ by the door?
He seems just like some shadow that I’ve seen before.
He shimmers in the twilight – he was here and then gone—
Just a shadow cowboy like the horse he rides upon.

I never saw him again till fall took paw away—
And in he came a ridin’ without a word to say.
Or was it just a shadow that flickered on the hill?
Or that dark shadow cowboy that came to sap our will?

He is gone now forever – of him I do not speak—
I do not see him at the door or down by the creek.
But pains and aches are heavy and life is just not fair—
Before I turn ‘round, I know his shadow will be there.

Who was that tall cowboy I saw ridin’ by the door?
He seems just like some shadow that I’ve seen before.
He shimmers in the twilight – he was here and then gone—
Just a shadow cowboy like the horse he rides upon.


Details | Rhyme | |

A Cowboy's Dream

What is a horse but freedom,
elegant and strong.
Any mountain, any valley,
with a horse you can't go wrong.

What is a horse but a symbol,
of loyalty and love.
A gift from God,
and heaven's angels high above.

What is a horse but powerful,
no other animal can compare.
His eyes full of passion,
his heart filled with care.

What is a horse but a friend,
to listen, comfort and try,
to bring you the perfect sunset,
no money could ever buy.

What is a horse but a cowboy's dream,
to help him through the fight.
To race the stars,
and the darkness of the night.


“A horse is an angel, with four legs, no wings, but can fly like the wind.”
		Cassandra Teed